


You Always Hear Me (Even When I Cannot Speak)

by Ballycastle_Bat



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo Card #1 [1]
Category: Spider-Man (Movies - Raimi)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Bider-Man, Bisexual Peter Parker, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Men Crying, Other: See Story Notes, Past Child Abuse, Past unhealthy Harry/M.J, Peter Parker Wears Glasses, Possible M.J. Bashing, Sorry I just hate that trope a lot, Touch-Starved, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 16:28:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20709065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ballycastle_Bat/pseuds/Ballycastle_Bat
Summary: M.J. would never see the mess that Norman Osborn made but she and Harry would both need time to pick up the pieces.





	You Always Hear Me (Even When I Cannot Speak)

**Author's Note:**

> [[Warnings: What it says on the tin.  
Prompt: Touch Starved from Bad Things Happen Bingo  
Disclaimer: I did have someone express the opinion that this fic came off a little anti-M.J. in the first draft, I did my best to adjust it but I wasn't exactly sure why. Feel free to offer criticism! I love M.J. haha. Also I tagged both / and & because it's very complicated...
> 
> Notes: Another repressed sexuality + toxic masculinty fic? On my A03? Yeah, it be like that.
> 
> This fic is a mess please forgive me lol. Part of a larger AU I'll never finish. I've honestly shipped these two since I saw the movie when I was like, seven. (Much to my family's confusion/disgust lmao). I'm not 100% what happened with this fic. 
> 
> I was in a weird mood when I started writing this scene and this odd. AU. I think it was because I was thinking about how I would have changed Peter and M.Js relationship, and I always got vibes that Harry was in love with Peter. 
> 
> So combined with my bad mood I was like "Okay, but what if Harry is suffering and has to pick up the pieces of himself along with everything he destroyed?" lmao???]

The night was coming to a close. Harry had gone to bed a few short hours before Peter who was currently sitting up in bed. His glasses still affixed to his face. He was reading a section in his college textbook in the dim light from his bedside lamp. If he was being honest with himself, though, it was to distract from recent events.

The recent break up with Mary Jane had hit Harry harder than Peter had anticipated. He must have gotten in deeper than he had expected. As someone who had been friends with Harry for years, he knew why Harry wouldn’t-- couldn’t stand up to his father. Nor did he really have an easy time expressing or dealing with his emotions. Which tended to turn his personal relationships into battle fields. Something he always hated, but never knew how to change. Peter helped sometimes, but they both knew it wasn’t enough.

Peter had More insight than M.J. could ever hope to achieve. That wasn’t any fault of hers. Just another ripple effect from the disturbance Norman Osborn had caused in Harry’s life M.J. hadn’t been there Junior year when Peter pulled the puke-stained shirt from Harry’s drunken, only vaguely conscious body. When, at the time, Harry had just finished emptying his stomach contents into the waste bin in his room, making a mess of his shirt. (This of course, was after trying to drink all feeling away.)

She didn’t see what Normon Osborn had created: The ticking time bomb that was Harold Osborn. She likely never would. Peter did feel remorse for her, despite his jealousy. She didn’t have the slightest glimpse of the storm inside Harry. The one Peter had fought for years to help channel. To keep him from destroying himself and everyone around him.  
  
Peter was staying awake. Just for a little while. If he turned his light off and Harry had another nightmare, he wouldn’t come in. Always afraid of bothering Peter, but only when it  _ mattered _ . When he was scared of himself. Other times though, he had no problems pushing his way into Peter’s personal space and treating him like a brother or  _ something else _ . Peter tried not to think like that, but it happened occasionally. He felt it in the way Harry sometimes looked at him.

The door creaked open and and Harry stuck his head in. His eyes were glassy like he was holding back tears. His hair ruffled, presumably from taking a fist or two. Harry blinked. “What are you working on?” his voice almost broke, but he quickly disguised it with a cough. It may have even fooled M.J. if he tried hard enough but not Peter. Never. Harry hesitated, stopping at the door like a vampire that required a blatant invitation.

“Physics.” Peter held up the book with a grin. “I was getting kinda bored, actually.” he shut the book. “Come hang out with me for a bit?” he met Harry’s eye and smiled softly.

Harry slid into the room and sat down on the bed beside him. He carefully removed Peter’s glasses from his face and set them on the side table. “What happened to contacts?” his voice was low.   
  
_ Left one fell out and got melted by the Green Goblin’s hovercraft _ . He couldn’t say that to Harry though. He tilted his head up to meet Harry’s eyes. He moved over and patted the bed. “They hurt my eyes, I needed a break.”

Harry joined him, and the air was heavy on both men. For Peter because he could feel the tension radiating off Harry’s body, assaulting him like a jackhammer. Peter turned over on his side waiting for Harry to say something, both in the bed now facing each other. “My father called. He asked if I got the birthday card he sent yet.”

_ That’s what this was about _ . Peter thought. Harry’s birthday passed months ago. “Oh.”  
  
“I just feel.” he glared away from Peter. “I feel-- like.” he took a deep breath. “It’s a small thing, but it feels bigger.” He leaned into Peter slightly.

“Because of everything,” with Harry's weight on him Peter really felt the tension on Harry’s body. Like a statue. “I know, Harry.” he nodded once. “When it’s a lot of little things, they build. You can be upset about the small things too.”   
  
Harry pressed their foreheads together and Peter emitted a sigh. Harry slowly reached forward and placed a hand on the other man’s chest, feeling the warmth of his body under his palm. Being close to Peter was always comforting in ways he couldn’t quite explain. It was more than the feelings he’d forced down. Peter was familiar and safe. A part of his dark inner world, having let himself in early on. Far before he’d cemented the walls around himself.

Peter for once wasn’t sure what Harry wanted. So he just touched his hand. “Talk to me about it.” his voice was careful, opening himself up to Harry as he had since they were kids. The first time Harry’s dad hit him, the first time Harry stayed the night at Peter’s house because he was afraid to go home. When his dad first began shipping him off to every expensive boarding school in the area.   
  
Peter could remember the time he drove three hours down to the one Harry was sent to after he got his license. He remembered Harry crying on him in the car. It was the first time he’d seen Harry cry, and the last time he saw him cry while sober.   
  
When Harry moved forward the smell hit Peter like the Green Goblin’s stupid hovercraft, Harry was drunk. Or at least had been drinking enough to taint his breath and loosen him up. “I don’t want to. I’m tired of talking about it. It doesn’t make me feel any better, it just makes me feel like I’ll explode faster.”   
  
Peter shook his head. “Harry.” he pressed, to get his attention from whatever rabbithole his mind had gone down, causing his eyes to glaze over, visible even in the low light. “It’s just us. It’s okay if you explode. I’m pretty fast now if you haven’t noticed, I can catch the pieces.” usually, at this point, a joke could recentre Harry. Jolt him out of whatever rabbithole his mind was plummeting down.   
  
Peter felt a warmth against him as Harry sought refuge in the apex of his neck and shoulder. Harry’s eyes tightly closed. Peter hesitantly wrapped his arms around Harry.    
  
Harry’s voice was low, small. “What’s wrong with me?” his breath warmed Peter’s neck, and so did his tears. “Everytime I try to be different this shit just happens.”   
  
Peter sighed and risked a kiss to the top of his head. “Just breathe, Harry.” he soothed. “Breathe. It’s okay.”

Hot tears pooled the bare skin of Peter’s neck. “I should have told M.J. everything.” he closed his eyes tightly. “Why do I do this to everyone?”   
  
The room was quiet for a moment. “You would have told her when you were ready. Your father came here and made a scene. You acted out of fear, like you always have. This is just something you have to move forward from. We always move forward.”   
  
Harry didn’t move other than to fist Peter’s shirt, desperate for the contact he had been starved of for months. “No, Pete. He dragged M.J. into it and I just sat there. What’s wrong with me?”

Peter held him more securely against his body. “Norman is.” Peter spoke plainly. “but now it’s up to you to not let it consume you. We’ll figure this out, Harry. It will be okay.”   
  
Harry fell asleep soon after that, and he was sure he wouldn’t make any progress right then and there. Harry would have to stew on it on his own until some of his words broke through.   


* * *

The next morning, Peter had to leave early for work and classes. He left Harry a note on the counter so Harry wouldn’t worry about hard feelings from the previous night, but he had to go. He had pictures of himself to take and a final. However, he spent some time at the Gay Straight Alliance on campus. He needed to dig out some information.   
  
When he returned home in the afternoon, the apartment wasn’t empty. Harry sat at the table in the dining area-kitchen combination. He was tapping his hands on the table a bit anxiously.   
  
“Hey, Harry. I brought you this.” he passed Harry a card. “He’s a therapist, he takes on patients like us, and who have … stories like yours.” He knew Harry got skittish when he used words. He wasn’t ready for that yet, and Peter respected that. He always had.   
  
Harry always had trouble admitting his father was abusive. Often torn between hating him and making excuses for him. “My dad will see him on the insurance.” Harry shut him down, but didn’t seem to be ending the conversation.   
  
Peter smiled sadly. “He takes cash, Harry. His speciality is keeping things quiet for situations like this.” still holding out the card to him.   
  
“Thank you,” he paused. “So … I invited M.J. over to talk and she agreed. Somehow.”

“Good. Are you going to …?” Peter trailed of, receiving only a small nod from Harry. “Okay, well. I have to take care of some stuff upstairs but I’ll be back.”   
  
When Peter returned from putting his stuff away and setting up his new Spider-man photos, Harry wasn’t alone. Mary Jane Watson sat on the opposite end of their dining room table. “Harry, look, I understand you’re trying to make some kind of amends…” she trailed off, glancing in Peter’s directly but briefly, like he’d interrupted any hope of Harry saying what he’d called here there for. “but I can’t sit here for an hour. So please either talk soon, or don’t and I‘ll go.”

“I didn’t stand up for you at Thanksgiving, because, I was scared.” his voice was small like it had been when he spoke to Peter the night before.

M.J. sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I know, you were a coward. He’s just your dad, and you had nothing to say in my defense? I honestly wondered if you agreed with him.”

Harry’s eyes snapped to Peter, wide open, vulnerable. “Pete, I’m trying.” the tone pulled at something in Peter’s chest and he realised he was gravitating towards the table.   
  
“I don’t know,” Pete started. “I’m not sure I should get involved. I-I mean-- this is--” he struggled for words. “This is your truth, Harry. I can’t just tell M.J. for you.

M.J did not like being kept out of the loop. Not when there seemed to be some sort of conversation going on in front of her, without her. “I’m sorry?” she was a bit lost too, if she were being honest. “Tell me what?”   
  
Harry anxiously tapped one thumb onto the other. “You can.” Harry’s voice was small again. “You always know what I’m trying to say, Pete. Just-- help.”

Peter squeezed Harry’s shoulder before sitting down with them at the table. “Okay then,” he searched for words, he felt out of place, as if he was intruding. He was in a sense, but he couldn’t walk away from Harry. “Do you remember when we were kids and we used to play basketball in Aunt May’s driveway?” chose his words carefully.   
  
M.J. blinked slowly. “I guess? That was elementary school. Why--”   
  
“Then one day you jumped over the fence because--” Harry squeezed his hands together “Because I took off my shirt and you saw my bruises?”   
  
She stared at Harry now. Trying to gather what he was saying. “Yes? You said you and Pete were wrestling.” she recalled the memory briefly. It had been too long ago for her to fully picture it. All she could muster was the feeling of the chain link fence, sharp under her hands as she vaulted over it, and some of the bruises on Harry’s shoulder and front.   
  
Harry’s thumbnail was now digging into the side of his hand. “My father was angry about something I’d said the night before.”   
  
M.J. closed her eyes for a second, remembering the dark bruises more clearly now. “You father did that to you? Why didn’t you tell me?”

The silence was heavy and clung to all three of them. Harry’s mouth dried up as he tried to formulate a response. “I didn’t know how.” he swallowed and it felt like drinking sand. “Pete was the only person who knew for years, and I-- I never said out loud how bad it was. I’m sorry I hurt you, but I’m … trying to get better, and I wanted you to know that. Peter is helping me.” he sighed and pinched his nose between his eyes. “I know this won't fix anything but-- I wanted you to know it wasn’t you, and I’m trying.”   
  
The room was silent for a while more. Peter watching his own hands. M.J looked to Peter. “You never called anyone?”   
  
Harry’s eyes zoned out of the moment as Peter managed. “I tried-- once. It was…” he shuddered at the thought. “It was  _ bad _ , M.J. It was so bad. I can’t even tell you.”   
  
“I don’t want to get into it.” Harry interrupted. “Like I said … I don’t want you to think it was anything you did.” Harry didn’t look up from his hands when he spoke. “I don’t know who I’ve been these last few years, it’s not who I want to be.”   
  
The room was silent for a bit after that. Things were more of a mess than she initially thought. Though she hadn’t thought to think it had anything to do with her. “Thanks for telling me, I guess.” this didn’t erase everything. The last year had been trial after trial. Both M.J. and Harry desperately trying to make it work, only to be met with fights and silent treatments.   
  
She needed time to process the situation. There were things that Harry couldn’t take back, no matter what his past was. They both had to deal with that fact. M.J. to make sense of it, pick up the pieces of herself that had chipped away in that relationship, and Harry to live with it. He knew enough that now wasn’t the time for him to try to fix things with M.J. maybe there would be a time later, but it wasn’t now.   
  
Peter placed a comforting hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you. It took a lot of guts to say that out loud.”   
  
Harry’s hand touched his for a few seconds before he pulled back and pulled his cell phone from his pocket. He dialed the number on the card Peter had given him earlier.   
  
“Rodger Morgan, Clinical Therapist. How can I help you?” came a voice on the other end.   
  
Harry froze for a second he hadn’t expected him to answer right away. “Hi. Uh … Someone gave me your card and said that you took cash and no insurance?”   
  
There was some shuffling on what Harry assumed was a desk. “Yes I do. Could you let me know your name? Whatever your friends call you is fine.”   
  
“Peter.” Harry said low. He felt embarrassed that he’d used another name but he didn’t trust this completely yet.   
  
There was a humming, and the sound of pencil on paper. “Hi, Peter. Okay so, can you give me a general idea of what’s going on?” he seemed like a kind man, his tone reminded him of Peter’s.

“I just … I have some stuff to work on.” he admitted.   
  
Rodger went on to ask the basic intake questions for a new client.  
  
Harry did his best to answer honestly, and Rodger was patient. Eventually, Rodger set him up with an introductory appointment. Harry couldn’t get off the phone fast enough, the whole conversation felt like prodding at the open wound.   
  
Both he and Pete felt like something was accomplished. At least compared to other attempts Harry had made to deal with what Norman left behind. They both felt a little less lost, and a little less helpless. They had a direction for Harry, that hopefully he could follow to the end. They would be taking the next few weeks minute by minute.


End file.
